Backstage at the church, the lights were low and the big sanctuary piano stood quiet under a single overhead bulb. Travis had carried his guitar case in one hand and led Elias through the side door with that easy, long-limbed cowboy stride. The 6’6” singer smelled like cheap body spray mixed with honest farm-boy musk — the kind that clings after a long day under the sun. His thin mustache was still trying its best, his messy brown hair falling into those bright blue eyes that stood out against his deep farmer’s tan.
They sat side by side on the piano bench. Travis strummed the simple chords he’d written and Elias’s fingers found the melody almost instantly, turning it into something richer, more emotional. For twenty minutes they worked in perfect sync — Travis’s thick drawl humming the lyrics, Elias’s stylish hands dancing over the keys. The song started to breathe.
“You know guitar?” Travis asked, voice low and polite.
Elias shook his head, smiling softly. “Never learned.”
Travis’s blue eyes lit up. “Well… let me show you real quick.” He stood, moved behind Elias, and gently placed the guitar across his lap. His tall frame leaned in close — warm body heat pressing against Elias’s back, the front of his church pants brushing lightly against the curve of Elias’s ass through the black herringbone trousers. Elias felt it immediately and a little giddy flutter hit his stomach.
Travis’s hands covered Elias’s on the fretboard, guiding his fingers. “Here… index on the second fret, middle on the third… thumb behind the neck like this.” His drawl was soft, almost shy, but the accidental press of his hips against Elias’s booty made them both freeze for half a second.
Travis cleared his throat, face turning red under the tan. “Sorry ‘bout that… my dump truck got in the way.” He laughed nervously, the joke landing awkward but charming.
Elias giggled despite himself, the tension breaking. Travis quickly tuned one string, then placed the guitar back in Elias’s hands. “Here, babe — I mean… here you go.” The slip hung in the air. Travis’s cheeks went even redder. “Shit… sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Elias reached back and rested his hand lightly on Travis’s forearm, voice gentle. “It’s okay. People think I’m too feminine sometimes. Doesn’t bother me.”
Travis looked down at him, bright blue eyes serious for the first time. “You’re perfect actually.”
The pause was heavy. Elias felt it in his chest — that cowboy charm hitting him right in the knees. He suddenly felt overwhelmed, the weight of the night, Patricia’s comments, Gabriel waiting back at the hotel. His shoulders slumped.
Travis caught him instantly, strong arms wrapping around Elias from behind, pulling him back against his chest on the piano bench. “You’re okay,” he murmured, voice low and steady. His body was warm, fit, and solid. Elias could feel the obvious hardness pressing against the small of his back through Travis’s church pants, but Travis didn’t adjust or pull away. Elias shifted slightly, brushing against it, and let out a soft, nervous giggle.
Travis chuckled too — deep, boyish, relieved — and they both just laughed for a moment, the tension easing into something lighter. Elias finally pulled back, cheeks warm, and carefully closed the keyboard cover, making sure it looked exactly as they’d found it. Travis packed his guitar away, eyes never leaving Elias the whole time.
They walked toward the stage door together. Travis stopped suddenly, hand gently catching Elias’s arm. “I… I’m not sure what’s happening, ‘cause I know what the Bible says and all. But ever since the conference… seeing you up on stage in them outfits… I just can’t stop thinking about you, Elias. I’m sorry. I hope you keep this between us. I’m just a country boy putting himself out there, but if nothing else… I wanna be friends.”
Elias finally looked up, meeting those bright blue eyes. The cowboy charm made his knees weak, but in the back of his mind he could already picture Gabriel waiting in their hotel room — probably worried, probably protective. He smiled softly. “I’d like to be friends.”
Travis leaned down, wrapped his long arms around Elias in a warm, careful hug. His body was strong, his musk boyish and real. He pressed a light, respectful kiss to the side of Elias’s neck — nothing more, just a soft brush of lips — then pulled back with a sheepish smile. “Dang… and you smell good.”
He shook his head, disappointed but understanding, and held the stage door open for Elias like a gentleman.
Outside, the GLS sat gleaming under the streetlight right next to Travis’s lifted GMC Denali. Elias looked up at the tall singer one last time. “Good luck with the song, Travis. Keep in touch. You’re amazing.”
Travis winked, nudged his arm gently. “You too, man. Thanks again.” He waved toward the GLS even though he couldn’t see Gabriel through the dark-tinted windows and the glare of the country night.
“You smell like him,” Gabriel said quietly, voice calm but with that unmistakable edge of a man who knows exactly what he’s smelling. “Musky… cheap spray… and something else. What were you two doing backstage, my love?”
Elias exhaled and shook his head. “We worked on his song. Guitar and piano. He showed me a few chords… that’s all. He was respectful, Gabriel. Flirty, but respectful.”
Gabriel stared him for a long moment, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I believe you. But I also know how men look at you… and how you look when you’re enjoying the attention.” He pulled back just enough to meet Elias’s eyes, and out the suv in drive, heading back to the hotel. As soon as they walked in and the door locked behind them, Gabriel was stripping down to nothing, flexing as if to remind Elias who he was and what he had to offer him. Protection and a big dick to fulfill his every desire. “Come on. Let’s shower together. I want to wash the night off both of us.”
They stepped into the bathroom, Elias quickly undressing and leaned against the wall watching Gabriel adjust the water temperature, every sexy muscle flexing with his movements. He’d been hitting the gyms ages during their travels. Gabriel turned the water hotter, pulled Elias under the spray with him, and lathered him slowly — rough hands sliding over smooth skin, washing away every trace of Travis’s scent with careful, possessive strokes. No sex. Just quiet intimacy: Gabriel’s big body shielding Elias from the water, soft kisses to his shoulder, whispered words of reassurance. “You’re mine, Elias. No one else gets to have you the way I do. Not even in their thoughts if I can help it.”
They dried off together, then climbed into bed naked. Gabriel pulled Elias against his chest, arms locked around him, thick leg draped over Elias’s hips so he was completely enveloped. No penetration tonight — just closeness. Gabriel’s hand stroked slow circles on Elias’s back while he kissed the top of his head.
“Sleep, my love,” he murmured, voice reverent and protective. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. And tomorrow… I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”
Elias melted into him, safe, loved, and full of the quiet tension that always seemed to pull them closer in the end.
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